It as been so hot here in the mountains. The Summer Solstice has yet to arrive and we have been near 90 degrees. I spend my days making sure the animals are comfortable and have fresh cold water to cool them, shade and frozen water bottles in the hutches.
Yesterday late afternoon into evening, I went out planting again, pushing past my swollen knees, the still sweltering heat, and my mind begging to quit. But I didn't quit. I planted three more rows of tomatoes and weeded the bush beans.
I find that when I do push past the discomfort, It is the predominately the mental I have to overcome. The "I can't do this" tapes, instead turn it into, "I am doing it" album. I get into a new zone in my being. With the body and mind now working together, something quite beautiful happens.
Digging into the earth, loosening the soil with my hands, I ready the tomato's new home. Touching the earth brings me to a grounded place. Literally and figuratively. As the sweat is dripping from my face, slightly stinging my eyes, I work in the heat that I now consider my personal sauna. The earth is still cool, deep under the top soil. Dark organic clay dirt, the kind you might make use for a facial. I run it through my hands playing with the dirt like a child, then placing a precious plant, which I grew from seed. Each plant, is filled with the love and nurturing from the sun, water, soils and my hand. They each have a network of tiny white baby roots reaching for more. I carefully place each in a hole and crumble the cool moist earth around it with both hands, giving myself a dirt manicure.
My higher self watches and I witness an extraordinary earthly creature, along with the others, potato bugs, earth worms, and the robins happily pecking on the far side of the garden.
I have talked about this before, but I stands repeating, mostly for myself.
Who I am is holy.
Where I am is holy.
What I do is holy.
An epiphany in my little farm spa and resort. On my natural mountain high.
~crow
Yesterday late afternoon into evening, I went out planting again, pushing past my swollen knees, the still sweltering heat, and my mind begging to quit. But I didn't quit. I planted three more rows of tomatoes and weeded the bush beans.
I find that when I do push past the discomfort, It is the predominately the mental I have to overcome. The "I can't do this" tapes, instead turn it into, "I am doing it" album. I get into a new zone in my being. With the body and mind now working together, something quite beautiful happens.
Digging into the earth, loosening the soil with my hands, I ready the tomato's new home. Touching the earth brings me to a grounded place. Literally and figuratively. As the sweat is dripping from my face, slightly stinging my eyes, I work in the heat that I now consider my personal sauna. The earth is still cool, deep under the top soil. Dark organic clay dirt, the kind you might make use for a facial. I run it through my hands playing with the dirt like a child, then placing a precious plant, which I grew from seed. Each plant, is filled with the love and nurturing from the sun, water, soils and my hand. They each have a network of tiny white baby roots reaching for more. I carefully place each in a hole and crumble the cool moist earth around it with both hands, giving myself a dirt manicure.
My higher self watches and I witness an extraordinary earthly creature, along with the others, potato bugs, earth worms, and the robins happily pecking on the far side of the garden.
I have talked about this before, but I stands repeating, mostly for myself.
Who I am is holy.
Where I am is holy.
What I do is holy.
An epiphany in my little farm spa and resort. On my natural mountain high.
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| hole-y plastic with tomatoes |
It's so hot here too. 98* yesterday. But like you, I am out in the garden regardless. :-) It helps that my veggies are coming in.
ReplyDeleteYou lucky things...
ReplyDelete...lately it's been cold here and overcast but without any useful rain which we could really do with.
Looks like you're gonna have a bumper tom harvest.
Here in Arizona the ground is rock hard. I have a tiny tiny garden [3'x15'] on the east of the house with tomatoes, jalapenos, chives and basil - just stuff I use everyday. It took hours to break up that little piece of ground and work in enough mulch to make it viable. There will never be enough mulch! I am jealous of the description of your soul. We've been harvesting tomatoes for about 6 weeks now :-)
ReplyDelete